


Prisoners

by dark_brohood



Series: Elder Scrolls One-Shots [13]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Blind Character, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, How They Became Prisoners, Imprisonment, Physical Disability, Prisoners, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_brohood/pseuds/dark_brohood
Summary: A Dunmer gets wrongfully imprisoned, and sent to Morrowind.A Redguard with one arm assaults an Arena combatant, and ends up in prison.A Falmer finds herself in the middle of an ambush, and heads to the chopping block.
Series: Elder Scrolls One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110678
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Holiday TES Fanfic Fest!





	Prisoners

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [regretfulghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regretfulghost/pseuds/regretfulghost) in the [Holiday_TES_Fanfic_Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Holiday_TES_Fanfic_Fest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> How did your Nerevarine/Hero of Kvatch/Last Dragonborn end up on a ship to Morrowind/in the Imperial Prisons/caught crossing the boarder into Skyrim? Write one, two, or all three of the scenarios, it's up to the writer.

It was a mistake. Remlen was not the man the guards thought he was. And as he sat in the dank Imperial City Prison cell, a fellow Dunmer heckling him about spending his entire life in there, he wondered why the guards thought he was a murderer. Maybe it was because he was half Altmer. Maybe all the guards are racist. It wouldn’t surprise him.

He rested his head against the uneven stone wall, watching his breath cloud in front of him from how cold it was in the cell. His father would get him out soon. He knew the Emperor, was one of the councillors on the Elder Council. He wouldn’t let his son rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

A guard appeared at the door to his cell, shouting his name. He looked over and saw a Redguard woman unlocking the cell, shouting for him to stand up. He did, and she approached him, a chain held in her hands. She connected the chain with his shackles, and ordered him to follow her.

He did, following her through the prisons and to a waiting carriage, where his father was waiting for him, a deflated look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Remlen asked.

“I’m sorry, son,” his father said. “This was the only way to get you free.”

“What? Father, what’s going on?”

“You are free now, but you have to go to Morrowind. I’m sorry.”

Remlen didn’t get to say anything before he was shoved into the carriage, and he watched his father become smaller and smaller before the carriage took a turn, and he disappeared.

Months later, as he stood at the top of Red Mountain covered in ash, now immortal, he wondered what would have happened if he had refused to go onto that carriage.

* * *

The Bloodworks of the Imperial City Area was exactly what it sounded like: an underground room where the combatants of the Arena bled and sweat to train to survive the pit above them. Thaiah was one of these people, a Redguard with a missing arm, but somehow the Grand Champion.

He called the Bloodworks home. And he had lost it in a day.

He had been training at the punching bag, punching and kicking the leather as hard as he could, when a Yellow Team’s combatant started heckling him. He ignored her for the most part, concentrating on the punching bag, but it was one of the things she said that really got him riled up:

“How are you even the Grand Champion? I thought cripples were killed in childhood by their parents. If I had a cripple like you as a son, I’d kill you _and_ myself for having such a disappointment for a son.”

Fury roared inside him, and he aimed his next punch at her nose. His fist connected with her face, and she crumbled like a bag of bricks. Blood sprouted from her nose, and she let out a wail as she hit the floor, hand on her face. Blood poured over her hand, and she pushed herself to her feet and launched herself at him, fist raised. He grabbed it, twisted it behind her back, kicked her behind her knee so she crumbled, and kneed her in the back of the head.

Ten minutes later he was being dragged through the streets by two guards, and a smug looking combatant with blood down her entire front from her nose watching him go.

* * *

Vyrlori wrapped her cloak around her as the snow fell lightly around her, her dog happily trodding next to her. She pulled at the piece of cloth that was covering her eyes, making sure they were properly shielded from the cold. She may be blind, but she didn’t want her eyes to fall out, no matter how useless they were.

Her dog, Zidare, pulled at the rope that kept them connected, and she could hear footfalls far in front of her. She planted a smile on her face to smile at them while they passed, but as she approached them she could tell something was wrong. The footfalls, probably belonging to an army, had been joined by footfalls in the bushes, leaves rattling and twigs breaking. It didn’t take her long before she put everything together.

She was in the middle of an ambush.

She tightened her grip on the rope in her hand and started rushing forward. Zidare, noticing her increased pace, started to get faster too, and it wasn’t long before she was in the middle of the group of soldiers.

She heard movement in the bushes, and she knew she was about to get caught up in the ambush.

People sprang out of the foliage, and the sound of steel on steel clung around her. People shouted and let out war cries while others were blaring out orders, telling them to capture everyone. Hands grabbed at her, and she heard Zidare pounce at one of the people surrounding her.

She started running forward, the noise too loud for her to navigate properly, pushing passed people to try and escape the ambush.

Something hit her hard in the head, and she crumbled to the floor, unconscious.

When she awoke, her head pounding, she was moving, her hands bound behind her. She could feel the cloth was still on her face, which she was glad of. She didn’t want people to see her deformed eyes.

Someone in front of her moved. “Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”


End file.
